


you've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain but it's disintegrated

by secretly_a_savior



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: (no sexual assault or violence occurs), Angst, Caring Rick, Gen, Morty is a damaged little boy, Onomatopoeia, Post-Season/Series 02, i'm a great character dialogue writer, justin and dan please hire me, mention of sexual assault, mention of violence, morty just wants to be healthy, sorry for the fandom hop lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/pseuds/secretly_a_savior
Summary: "Can't you- can't you see that I don't- eurrrrp- care, Morty? Can't you see all the bottles and the- and the- fuck- and the fucking space chemicals, Morty? I don- I can't care! There's like... laws about that or something. Fuck off to your room and listen to My Chemical Romance if you're gonna be a- a- adownerMorty."





	you've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain but it's disintegrated

**Author's Note:**

> why? because i fucking can, that's why. fight me. square up. meet me at my current location and throw hands. 
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _if a word is extended like thi-iiiiss-s it implies a burp. euurrrp is also a burp._  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> also this isn't shippy, sorry lmfao i don't think pedophilic incest is cool that's not my thing, my guy.  
> (if it's your thing, you should probably be in prison, my guy)  
> please don't read into it that way. 
> 
> but lord god it probably reads so shippy because all i've been listening to is lana del rey so essentially "drink too much, do drugs and fuck older me" but i promise it's not like that. 
> 
> i just think rick as a character is pretty fascinating b/c like he's a high functioning alcoholic but he also seriously gives a shit??? like lol retweet. idk i think platonic relationships can be just as exciting and adorable as romantic ones as well as just as dynamic. i just think u can have chemistry w/ someone and NOT fuck them. incredible, right???? wow!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!
> 
> idk it's probably my only/last rick and morty piece i just... had to get it out of my system. for those of you keeping up I have:
> 
> 4 unfinished hamilton fics  
> 2 one direction outlines and 1 draft  
> 1 unfinished heathers fic  
> 3 unfinished winteriron fics, 1 unfinished stony fic, 1 unfinished tony stark fic
> 
> good thing i don't release fics until they're done lmfao byeeee
> 
> (justin roiland improv voice)  
> this fic was brought to you by vernor's ginger ale and small batch artisan ice cream.

"I'm scared, Rick. " 

Rick Sanchez glanced over his shoulder, a sneer crossing his lips as he did so. He and his grandson were literally just  _sitting._ He had been working on improvements to his portal gun but all work and no play makes Rick a sober boy, so he elected to take a break and crush a beer while Morty worked on just enough homework to maintain his not-failing grade. 

"Scared? Of what, Morty? The- the spiders in the attic?" Rick asked, incredulous.   
  
"We have an attic?"

"Answer my que-eeeessss-tion!" Rick demanded, a crude belch cutting through his words. 

Morty straightened up and cocked his head, locking eyes with his grandfather, all-of-the-sudden aware that he didn't have a concise, scientific answer. 

"I dunno. I'm just scared." He said, a shiver running down the spine that Rick swore up and down he didn't have. It was true, he just  _felt scared._ He couldn't divulge his secrets to anybody sane, and the only person that had been through it with him wasn't much for feelings.

He'd been sexually assaulted, he'd buried his own rotting corpse, he'd dug up his grandfather's corpse. He had a hand into turning his entire world into creatures out of a bad pulp fiction, and he cheated his way into a universe where he befell a terrible tragedy. He'd been berated, shot at, beaten, laughed at, he'd killed people, and he'd done all of it without a  _ **drop**_ of alcohol to numb his senses. He was traumatized and hurting, but the only life he knew was just following Rick no matter where it took him inclusive of the mental and bodily harm. He didn't know how to firmly say no, and even if Rick let him say no, he didn't know how he could process a day without  _something_ absolutely insane happening to him. 

_**HE HAD KILLED PEOPLE.** _

That one hit him the hardest, most of the time. He'd stay up and just stare at the ugly fucking popcorn ceiling and think about the people (and not-quite-people) he had hurt and the lives he'd ruined. It would be so much easier if he could kill a bottle of wine or have access to a seemingly-bottomless flask- or, shit, even a joint or some unbaked enamel.  _ANYTHING._ It worked for his family and it would probably work for him too. It's genetic, right? Escapism? Chasing highs? Addiction is something he was predisposed to, but every vice was just out of his reach. 

"Don't be such a pussy, Morty. You know there's no monsters in your closet because if there were you'd know- you'd know them personally." Rick noted casually.

 

Morty rolled his eyes, unsatisfied with his Grandfather's answer.

"Jesus, Rick. A gay joke,  _nice-_  because _**that's**_ what I need right now."

"Oh, nice, you- euuuurppp- picked up on that! Getting smarter every day." Rick said, with what sounded like half-genuine enthusiasm.

Morty huffed and stood up, moving to the garage door entirely too quickly and yanking up on one of it's edges, frantically trying to open it despite knowing it was electric. 

"Morty, wha- what- what are you doing?" Rick asked, standing from his seat and reaching up to the box that controlled the garage door before deciding against it- the neighborhood didn't need to see Morty having a meltdown or whatever this was.

"I need some fresh air! Open the door, Rick, I need- I need to not be in here! I need the- the fresh air! It's too small in here!" 

" _MORTY!"_ Rick yelled, cutting the silence and crossed the room, picking up the fourteen year old with a hint of difficulty, struggling to contain the panicking child that was now thrashing. "What the fuck has gotten inn-nnnnnn-nto you?" he asked, dragging out his word with a burp that threatened to demean any legitimacy in his authoritative tone. 

"Let go of me, Rick!" 

"Only if- if- if you stop being fucking crazy!" Although he was one, it didn't take a genius to know Morty was seriously distressed. Rick took a deep breath and bore down, trying to stop the thrashing and kicking. He wanted to get to the bottom of it, but it really wasn't his place, and he really didn't know how. There was obviously nothing  _physical_ he could do here. Killing that  _jellybean **fuck-**_ he could do that. Sacrificing his life to consolidate the 64 dying Morties- he could do that. Cutting himself out of the entire Smith family's life so they no longer had to be in exile and pain? He'd done it twice- almost three times- before and he'd do it again if they would let him. 

Talking things out, though? That wasn't really Rick's style, and he knew that. 

Morty took a deep breath and stilled, relieved as he felt his feet touch the ground and as he feels the weight of his grandfather's grip fall from his form. There's silence for a few moments where they just made eye contact. Stern, spaced out eyes meeting scared and anxious ones. 

Rick's glance shifted down- he was going to just stare at the polished concrete on the ground until Morty said something stupid enough to provoke a laugh, but as it often did, a flash of bright red caught his eye. Morty's hands were bleeding from grabbing the garage door's sharp edge and being yanked away from it so violently. Rick swallowed his breath and moved to the shelf, shoving aside his box of failed time travel experiments and grabbing Jerry's first aid kit that he used if he injured himself doing yard work or grilling, which was more often than not the case. 

"You shouldn't touch that. My dad says it's just for emergencies." Morty said, seemingly unaware of the injuries on seven of his ten fingers. Adrenaline could do that sometimes. 

"Shut the hell up and come here, Morty." Rick said. Obvious distress or not, Morty wasn't gonna get kid gloves. He didn't deserve them, he wasn't innocent.

Morty obeyed willingly, eyes wide. Rick settled back into his seat and grabbed Morty's hand gently, using a towelette to wipe away the dirt and blood and placing a bandage on one of Morty's cuts. He silently repeated the process six more times, inspecting the severity of each one. Advanced healing technology was overkill for some cuts and bruises, but leaving them untreated was probably dangerous. Not to mention the symbolic value of a band-aid was enough fanservice for universes over, anyway, so it got that quota filled pretty quickly.

Morty glanced away from his hands and up at Rick, a forced normality in his demeanor. 

"Let's go. " 

"Go where?" Rick asked, furrowing his brow and packing up all the bandages. He threw the trash and bloody towels back into Jerry's kit as if he couldn't be assed to find the trash can. Fuck Jerry. If he wanted his first aid kit he should've taken it to his shitty new apartment. 

"On an adventure. Don't you have anything planned? Shoot your portal gun and let's do some crazy, whacky shit Rick. C'mon, Rick." 

"I think you've had e-eeee-nough "crazy" "whacky" "shit" for the day, Morty." Rick said, air quotes intensifying his sardonic demeanor. He wasn't buying Morty's act, not for a dollar, not even for a penny. The kid was stressed out of his tiny goddamned mind. 

"Rick, can't we go to blips and chitz? Or to some crazy world made of.. shit, I don't know, cotton candy? Rainbows, maybe? Where the sun's always up and there's a river flowing with Five Hour Energy so you don't have to sleep? Are you out of mega seeds, or crystals? Don't you need _**something**_ for some kind of project or experiment? "

Morty just wanted to  _leave._ Doing nothing gave him too much time with his thoughts, and while admittedly there weren't many of them, the ones he had were dark. Memories of pain and anger and just the generally terrifying condition he was constantly in. No matter how grim the situation, when he was on some sort of trip with Rick he was always focused on a solution, not that one time a week ago where- never mind that. His mind was on a solution. 

"No, Morty, that would be- that would  be  _ridiculous."_ Rick retorted, glancing around the garage as he felt an urgent tug on his white coat which he immediately tried to push off. 

 _"Please?_ Can we just  **go?** I can't stay here and sit on my hands, Rick! I'm not real! I'm out of place in a universe that's not mine because I ruined my universe! Why don't you care? Aren't you supposed to guard me? Don't I have some- some sort of intrinsic value to your crazy space escapades?"

Rick stood and swiftly took a drink from his flask. 

"Can't you- can't you see that I _**don't**_ \- eurrrrp- care, Morty? Can't you see all the bottles and the- and the- fuck- and the fucking space chemicals, Morty? I don- I can't care! There's like... laws about that or something. Fuck off to your room and listen to My Chemical Romance if you're gonna be a- a- a  **downer**  Morty, if you're gonna mope around and spaz out when I just want to sit down for an hour without running from the law in another dimension!" He yelled, gesticulating wildly and lying through his teeth, distancing himself from his downright painful sympathy for Morty, distancing himself from his need-but limited ability- to help.

"Poor picked on Morty! He gets to see every part of every world but- but just because he has to crack a few eggs while making a fucking awesome omelette he feels sorry for- euuurp- himself! Fuck you, stop freaking out! Stop acting like one of those sad puppies on TV. No amount of pennies-a-day could help you, Morty. You're fucked up, Morty. It doesn't- euuurp- it doesn't get better, Morty!"

Rick finished his rant with another drink from his flask and Morty huffed, biting the inside of his lips until he tasted oily iron.

"Just because you hide your feelings with alcohol doesn't mean you don't have them, Rick." 

Rick just grunted and rolled his eyes, turning away. 

"I- I can't do that. I have to just live with them. The only thing I can do is distract myself by doing more terrible shit so that it all runs together. One day, you're gonna run out of liquor and you're gonna be alone, Rick! It's gonna suck!"

"That's preposterous, Morty. This isn't 1920s America, nobody's ever gonna run out of liquor. Besides, I'll have you. "

"No! No you won't! I'm sick of being scared and anxious all the time, Rick! There's nobody else I know that- that- that has  _killed people_ and ruined entire worlds before they turned fifteen! And 'm all alone because instead of talking about it all you wanna do is keep on rolling!" 

Rick bit back a flurry of cruelties that threatened to leave his mouth, and instead just sat. 

"Listen, kid." He said, sitting, still turned away from Morty. "Just because I drink a lot doesn't mean I don't feel. That's the point, yeah, but really, at this point it's essentially just- eurrrp- water to me. I don't want to talk about it because I don't want to face the destruction I've caused, okay? Because destroying things is my forte, but my fixing skills need a little bit of work. You think I'm not aware-" he paused, turning towards Morty, who stared up at him with wide, unsure eyes. "-that you're the only real family I have? Beth, Jerry, Summer- they're all fake, Morty. We fucked our family up and these are just cheap refurbished replacements. I know that.  _ **I know that.**_ " 

Morty slunk, losing his straight-up posture and looking to the ground, flexing his hands and feeling the bandages crinkle against the joints of his fingers. A few seconds of silence passed that seemed like hours to Morty.

"Yeah, Rick. I guess you're right." He said, aware he'd crossed a line unintentionally to make Rick verbalize a breakthrough like that.. He turned around and walked towards the door to the house. He put his hand around the doorknob, but then let his hand fall off of the cold metal, all the sudden aware that it was unfair to expect Rick to work alone after griping about being all alone in the world himself. He returned to his seat by the work desk and sighed, fidgeting a little bit through the awkward tension that hung in the air.

"I'm... I'm gonna walk to the corner store and get some ice cream. Wanna come, Rick?" 

"Walking's for chumps." Rick said, rolling his defeated shoulders back and stood up, unholstering and shooting his portal gun at the shelf, a green portal opening up. 

Morty grinned and followed his grandfather through the portal, entirely positive that the corner store was not at the other end of the portal. 


End file.
